


Distance Doesn't Make the Learning Better

by breatheforeverypart



Series: Hawkeye & The Barton Family [6]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: COVID-19, Coffee is life, Cooper is a baby, Deaf Characters - Freeform, Everyone is struggling, Jemma is a middle schooler, Lila is a cranky preschooler, Natasha is co-parenting, Pandemics, Skye is a teenager, The Barton Family Farm, adopted characters, education at home, fitz has autism, poor kiddos, quarantine virtual learning is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: The Barton's have been distance learning for just over four months.  Quarantine with lots of kiddos with different needs means total chaos.
Relationships: Barton Family - Relationship, Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Hawkeye & The Barton Family [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758646
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Distance Doesn't Make the Learning Better

***

Crashing sounds catapulted Clint out of bed. He was on his feet, ready to let an arrow fly before his eyes registered the walls of his master bedroom. 

Laura automatically rolled towards the bassinet that’s situated next to the bed. Her hand was reaching for her nursing bra before she was able to focus on Cooper sleeping soundly, not screaming or needing her in any way. The silence confused her. 

Clint stumbled downstairs, the air already heavy with humidity. So far June was feeling like mid-August. At least he thought it was June, who could keep track of time in a pandemic? 

“Aw, no.” Clint hopped towards the living room on one foot, while extracting a Lego from between two of his toes. 

Fitz hummed happily from the middle of the living room. The Barton’s entire collection of wooden blocks, Legos and any toy that could be stacked was scattered around his oldest son. He was the epicenter of pre-dawn block bomb. 

“Morning dude.” He rolled the plastic block over in his hand. He snatched the Lego and clapped it against the side of his head. He had been engaging in old self-injurious behaviors again. The poor kid was trying to cope with the Everest of routine disruption. Quarantine had not been easy for any of them, but Fitz was really struggling. 

“Look lapachka.” Natasha quickly assembled a small tower in front of the boy. Fitz whimpered, but paused his hitting to observe his Aunt’s activity. “Your turn.” She tapped the top of the leaning tower of Lego. 

Fitz added his block to Natasha’s unstable structure. The poor kid had lost all sense of day and night. Last night he had crept into his sister’s bed around midnight. For a while, Natasha listened to Jemma murmuring to him, trying to explain that it was time to sleep. Fitz disagreed and kept using his tablet to say ‘awake’ and ‘food’. Natasha had intervened when the siblings had tumbled out of Jemma’s bed and Fitz began to slam his head against the floor. 

“Come. There’s coffee brewing.” Natasha led Clint by the wrist to the kitchen. 

“Mmm.” Clint walked like a zombie to the counter where his favorite appliance was creating life-giving caffeine. 

The stairs creaked as Laura made her way downstairs. She carefully adjusted Cooper in stretchy wrap so she could bend and greet Fitz. “Morning. Wow, that’s a lot of blocks buddy. Nice tower.” 

“Legos are stab-y.” Clint commented, while keeping his focus on the percolating coffee. 

“What he means to say is that he stepped on a Lego. His brain isn’t quite awake yet.” Natasha explained.

Laura nodded in understanding. “Who’s got the first zoom session?” Cooper yawned and lifted his head away from her chest. He was growing like a weed. He was four months old. He had been born a week before New York City shut down. Her youngest had an excellent sense of timing, despite the fact that he had been born in their kitchen. 

***

The pandemic obliterated all of their routines. Cooper had his first wellness visit via video conference. Laura spoke to her co-workers on a daily basis and missed being on the frontlines with them. Her heart ached for them. Nurses lacked PPE, adequate breaks, and the energy to work double shifts. The whole country was looking at NYC like a petri dish and yet they refused to provide aid or empathy. Instead, the masses hoarded toilet paper and hand sanitizer like it was gold. Now, they complained about wearing masks. Laura couldn’t stand to watch the news anymore, she wanted to punch politicians for not understanding how important masks were to containing the spread of the virus. 

The first month of quarantine had brought the entire Barton household to tears. Cooper may have started the crying jags, but everyone joined in. Well, Natasha remained dry-eyed, but that wasn’t surprising. Someone had to keep it together. Laura’s hormones certainly weren’t helping her maintain an even temper. 

No one was sleeping. All of the kids regressed. Natasha often found Skye cataloguing their pantry and panicking over the news. Laura now tightly regulated the kid’s tablets and access to certain websites. Frequently Jemma woke in tears, convinced that she was failing all of her classes. Lila fed off of all the tension and had tantrums with increasing regularity. 

One restless night had led Natasha to organize their lives. The lack of control that she felt at the moment, plus the half bottle of wine she’d ingested spurred the creation of the child’s weekly schedule. 

She color coordinated each kid’s therapies, class meetings, and due dates for assignments. Laura felt a wave of calm douse her anxiety as she scanned the cork board. Natasha had thumbtacked the days of the week at the top of the board and listed corresponding activities under the individual day. 

Clint squinted at the calendar from his place by the coffee pot. “It’s Wednesday?” 

All three adults sighed. Cooper burped and wiped his face on Laura’s neck. Wednesdays meant that three out of four kiddos had meetings. Which one would think made the morning easier, given that the majority of children would be occupied. It did not. Lila was enrolled in Pre-K and loving doing anything her older siblings did. Her meetings usually consisted of singing and home-made crafts. She was really good at sneaking into Fitz’s therapy sessions and Skye’s classroom meetings. Pandemonium was her middle name these days. 

“Who’s got Lila today?” Laura asked, swaying with the baby. He needed to be fed soon, as did the rest of the kids. 

Clint poured two normal sized cups of coffee and one Hulk-sized mug for himself. “I’ll take her.” He shared Lila’s inability to sit still for longer than an episode of Paw Patrol. 

“Laur, is almond milk okay? We’re out of creamer.” Natasha leaned away from the open fridge. “Skye’s got counseling at nine, and she likes to shower in the morning.” 

“Crap. She’s gotta get her butt in gear. It’s already quarter after eight.” Laura poured a liberal amount of milk into her coffee. Clint could judge her all he wanted for her barely brown coffee, but she liked what she liked. If she had been by herself, she would have added whipped cream. 

Natasha unplugged the coffee maker. Clint would be tempted to drink another pot all by himself, which boded well for no one. When the caffeine wore off, he would crash and be useless when it came to putting the younger kids down for naps. “On it.” 

“Let Lila sleep in.” Laura called as Nat bounced up the stairs. Ugh, she felt sweat beading on her scalp. The wrap contraction was not made for summer use, she hoped the deodorant she swiped on would last. Laura made her way towards the living room, where the well-worn swing resided. 

Ah. Fitz had re-purposed Cooper’s swing to hold blocks. Her son’s ingenuity reminded her of another task. “Babe, are the tablets charged?” 

She heard Clint untangle the jumble of cords that were overwhelming their counter. “Um. Two out of three. Fitz’s is unaccounted for.” 

Laura spotted it propped up against a pile of pillows on the couch. Fitz was hopping around, watching something on YouTube. She peered at the screen and sighed in relief when she identified the familiar scenes of the classic British film, ‘The Full Monty’. Nothing dangerous or wildly inappropriate. Chalk that up to a parenting win. “Found it.” She hollered.

She scooped handfuls of Legos and blocks from the cushioned seat. “Almost ready, Coop.” 

“Mum?” Jemma asked, her voice quiet. “The toilet isn’t flushing well.” Her hair was braided, she was dressed and even had shoes on. At the moment, Jemma represented everything Laura wanted to be in the morning. She was jealous of a pre-teen. 

Clint and Laura rock, paper, scissor-ed for investigation rights. Clint lost. He yelled up the stairs. “Hey Nat, do I need the industrial plunger?” 

“Snake.” She called back. “Last night Fitz was signing ‘bathroom’, I didn’t know why.” Natasha paused. “I think we’re going to find out.” 

“Experiment. I tried to tell him that it wasn’t a good idea.” Jemma sighed, sounding exhausted. The girl consulted the brightly colored schedule. “May I have the extension cord?” 

“Yep.” She strapped Cooper into the swing, set the speed to medium and found her now lukewarm coffee. “Don’t forget breakfast Jems. We’ve got a few tea bags left.” 

Two down, three to go she thought. Laura made a mental note to ask Jemma what she meant by ‘experiment’, but accepted that she would probably forget to ask by the time she had a chance to ask. 

***

“Huh.” Clint examined the array of objects set out on the towel. The combination of snake and plunger had revealed a lot of surprising items that had been buried in the piping. 

One of Laura’s nursing pads.

A toothbrush, pint sized. So probably Lila’s. 

Skye’s repurposed make-up case that usually held her hearing aids. (Thankfully empty). 

Play food in the form of banana and plastic pretzel

Lila thundered into the small bathroom. “Ooh!” She zeroed in on the ravaged toothbrush. 

Clint dove for his daughter just as she lunged for the treasures he had liberated from the toilet. He tucked her under his arm like a football. 

He pulled the bathroom door closed and bumped into a recently showered Skye. Her short hair was spiked all over her head. 

She rubbed at her ear. “Do I have to go to therapy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can I have coffee?” 

Clint hesitated, feeling Natasha smirking at him. “Yes, but don’t tell Mom.” 

“Do we have cereal?” 

“No, we’re going to have to go shopping later.” He grimaced at the thought. Shopping in the time of COVID-19 was no picnic. “Have an apple, or oatmeal. I think we have some peanut butter left.” 

“Can I make the list?” Skye asked hopefully. Keeping track of their supplies seemed to ease her anxiety. 

“Yeah.” Clint tossed Lila over his shoulder and realized that she was still wearing a Moana-themed nightgown. “Get logged in at the kitchen table today. Fitz has a couple therapies and needs the living room.” 

Skye disappeared down the stairs, content with her orders for the morning. 

Nat handed Clint a Lila-sized pair of rain boots. “When does Fitz have to be online?” 

“Like an hour?” He firmly held Lila’s hand as she slipped into her galoshes. “He’s gotta have breakfast and get dressed through. Laura doesn’t want a repeat of last week.” 

Natasha smiled at the memory of Fitz wriggling out of his clothes during the disastrous attempt at group therapy. Miss Rosemary had tried to play a kind of BINGO game with Fitz and another student where they talked about what clothes were appropriate for the season. To be fair, Fitz’s question had been about what one wears swimming. To date, Fitz’s only experience with swimming was in Natasha’s clawfoot tub. Which only happened at bath time, when he was nude. 

“Plenty of time.” 

“Daddy, we gotta feed the horses!” Lila squished Clint’s cheeks together and pressed their noses together. Her squeal pierced Clint’s brain. Oh yes, she needed to be outside today. Maybe she would tired herself out running around the paddock with Winter. That old girl needed some exercise. Lila could run circles around both of them. He might even be able to catch a nap against a bale of hay. 

A man could dream, couldn’t he?

***

“All done, all done, all done.” Fitz signed, his face red with frustration. 

Natasha stole a glance at the time. “Almost.” She lied. How could there be twenty more minutes left in the session? 

“I hear you bud. Let’s end early.” Miss Rosemary’s face froze thanks to the quality of the Zoom call. 

Fitz smacked the tablet. “All done. Go play lapachka.” Natasha extracted the tablet from his hands, resisting a foreign impulse to stroke the boy’s hair. Voices from her past, Madam’s specifically, screamed in her head. She could not have attachments, no relationships, it would make her weak. 

Miss Rosemary cleared her throat. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that you’re doing a great job.” 

“Oh. I’m not…” Natasha blushed and sputtered. The session had been a failure. She had failed in connecting Fitz with his educator. 

The therapist continued talked, unaware of Natasha’s inner struggle. “Fitz asks for you in school, you’re his Aunt Nat! He loves pressing your picture on his iPad. We know all about you.” Now, Rosemary flushed with embarrassment. “Wow, that came out wrong. I just meant that I appreciate how hard you and Mr. and Mrs. Barton are working to keep Fitz and his siblings on track.” 

The lithe brunette stuttered on camera. Rosemary whipped her hair into a bun, the sudden movement froze the screen. The audio connection remained intact. “Quarantining hasn’t been easy. Are you all doing okay? I have something for Fitz if it’s okay to drop off, I’ll wear a mask and leave it in the driveway or something?” The young woman wrung her hands nervously. Natasha noted the dark bags under her eyes, she must be under a tremendous amount of stress. 

Natasha nodded, unsure of what to say. “Thank you.” She said awkwardly. Her role in the family failed to be defined by words. Laura insisted from the moment she landed on their farm that she was family. She co-parented the kids and served as an emergency contact for all members of the Barton clan. 

The call ended and Natasha’s palms were sweaty. Fitz hummed and circled around her. “What do you think? Miss Rosemary has some magnetic tiles for you.” Natasha chose to focus on her nephew. “She’s going to drop it off later for you. We can build something to show the boys.” Maybe Nat would be able to get Banner on a video-call later, Fitz liked to see Stark’s lab. They loved the little scientist in the making. Pepper often sent pictures of toys that Tony was tinkering with in the lab. 

Cooper gurgled from the swing. “Hello.” Nat extracted the baby and settled him on her hip. “Where’s mama, huh? Let’s go find her.” 

Fitz waved good-bye and curled on the couch with a shoebox of metal springs, nuts, washers and bolts. The hell with his classroom meeting, Natasha thought. Her nephew deserved a day off. 

***

Skye’s elbow props her head up on the table. She blinked in slow motion, her boredom obviously displayed by her posture. The monotony of virtual learning was taking its toll on the teenager. 

Lila burst into the kitchen and launched herself at her sister’s lap. “Whoa!” Clint is half a step behind her. He pulled her out of the laptop’s view just as Skye’s class erupted into laughter. 

“Can I say hi?” Lila pleaded. She signed dramatically, blinking her doe-eyes at her sister. 

Skye shook her head. “No! They’re my friends.” 

The little girl pouted, a breath away from a full-blown tantrum. “Let’s bake something.” Clint blurted. He immediately regretted the statement, but couldn’t swallow the words. 

Skye gasped and raised her hands in applause. She excitedly told her class that she was going to bake cookies, cakes and muffins and exited the digitally meeting. 

Clint smacked his forehead. Why? Why did he just bribe his daughters with sugar? It was barely ten, nowhere near lunchtime and he was about to destroy their kitchen. Clint’s culinary specialty was pancakes. Baking required exact measurements and planning. He was more of an off the cuff experimental chef. 

“School is finished! I did therapy and got to talk with my friends.” Skye signed while bouncing around on tiptoes. “But I really want to bake with you. What are we making first?” 

“Boo-berries!” Lila squealed. She grabbed Skye’s hands and they danced around the kitchen. Skye corrected her younger sister and taught her the sign for blueberry. 

“Are you sure you’re done?” Clint asked. 

“Yeah!” Skye nodded, she pulled one of her hands back to finish the conversation with her father. “Miss Stephanie had to go to the bathroom and her cat knocked over her computer. Miss Kayla said class was over, so just talked until you and Lila came inside!” 

Excellent. He caught a glimpse of Fitz snoozing on the couch with his hands in his favorite box of bolts. Well, at least he was content. Skye flit around the kitchen, gathering supplies and dumping them on the counter. Hopefully this adventure would not end in total disaster. How hard could it be to make a dozen cookies?

***

Laura folded laundry on the porch while Jemma listened to the multi-class trivia game in progress. The middle-schoolers could not be more unfocused if they were characters in a sitcom.

She caught a glimpse of one student spinning in an office chair, not paying any attention to the activity. Another student was holding a very angry looking cat to their computer’s camera. 

Jemma rolled her eyes and blew out a sigh. She muted herself and turned to Laura. “Mum, they’re not even trying to play correctly. We’re not doing anything important. We’re not learning.” 

“It’s that bad?” Laura bit her lip. 

“Listen.” Jemma unplugged her headphones and cranked up the volume on the laptop. 

A teaching assistant was trying to get the student’s attention. “Okay. Who fought in the American Civil War? Who was the war between?” 

“George Washington!” Blurted one boy, whose camera was aimed at the top of his head. 

One of Jemma’s classmates confidently corrected the boy. “Nah, he died before World War One. Not him.” 

Laura swallowed a laugh when she saw how distressed Jemma looked. “He should get partial credit, Washington did die before both of those wars.” 

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut and frowned. Her hyper-rationality wouldn’t help her make sense of this situation. Her peers were being silly, and that was okay. They were coping with the chaos of the pandemic, just like Jemma and the rest of their family. 

“It’s okay, you’re nearly done for the day. How about if we just listen, you can stay muted.” Laura pulled her into a hug. “Do you wanna help me with the laundry?” 

The screen door creaked open. Cooper fussed in Natasha’s arms. He wriggled, throwing himself at his mother. “Someone’s missing you.” 

“Rough morning, bubba?” Laura reached for her youngest. “Join the club.” She comforted, nuzzling his head. 

Natasha ran her fingers through her hair, deftly separating and pulling the hair into a braid. Teaching required skills that she did not possess. She could incapacitate a person with a dozen different way and kill a person with a pair of tweezers. She had spent weeks undercover, barely speaking to anyone and had nearly drowned after being tossed into the Thames. All of those experiences seemed like a picnic compared to listening to Baby Shark for the fourteenth time in an hour. Now that was torture. 

***

A smoke detector bleated in one continuous burst. Laura’s head whipped towards the house. In a panic, Jemma closed the laptop and covered her ears. 

Natasha was nearly knocked over by the parade of people leaving the house. Lila slammed into her knees, closely followed by Fitz. Clint stumbled onto the porch, holding a smoking metal tray. 

“Experiment?” Jemma asked. 

“Failed.” Clint coughed, setting the tray on the railing. 

Skye whacked a Swiffer at the blinking smoke detector, knocking out the batteries. She grinned at the rest of her family. 

“Thanks.” Natasha praised. “What were you trying to make?” She signed the query to Skye and got a dramatic re-telling of the smoky oven. 

“Cookies.” Clint mumbled. “I don’t know what went wrong. There was a recipe, but then my phone died. So, I don’t know…I couldn’t find the measuring spoons?” 

Jemma beamed. “Let’s sort it. We can start over, work together and solve the problem. We’ll have another go.” 

Laura poked at the blackened mounds on the tray. “Were you trying to make snickerdoodles?” 

“Are those the ones with cinnamon?”

“Yes.” Skye confirmed. “Dad said we could put extra vanilla in to make it taste better.” 

Laura smiled. “Aha.” There was the fatal error. 

Jemma tried to pull Laura into the kitchen. “Too much vanilla! The ratios of wet to dry ingredients are incorrect.” She was invigorated by the prospect of scientific investigation. 

“Ra-o’s?” Lila looked to her Auntie Nat to interpret her sister’s words. 

“They know how to fix the cookies.” She explained to her little niece. Lila bobbed her head and let Natasha tuck a stray curl back into a clip.

“Cookie.” Fitz signed. “I want cookies please.” 

“Yeah!” Lila agreed, she grabbed Fitz’s hand and skipped into the house. “Kitchen school! No boogers in the cookies okay?”

Laura furrowed her brow. “What?” 

Clint fanned the tray in her direction. “Her Pre-K teachers have been talking about licking things that don’t belong to you.” The kids were also practicing wearing masks. Mostly, it resulted a dozen four-year old’s shouting and leaning into the cameras to show off their colorful masks. “Naturally, the conversation turned to boogers.” 

“Of course.” Laura scrapped a bit of simultaneously raw and burned dough from the tray. “I don’t think boogers would help the texture of a cookie.” 

“Or flavor.” Clint added. 

***

The three adults trailed after the children. “Will the activity count as school?” Natasha frowned at her customized school calendar. The Barton family did not seem to be managing the day well. 

“Totally, homeschooling at its finest.” Clint removed eggs and butter from the fridge. 

Laura read Natasha’s anxiety over the deviation from the plan. “It’s okay.” Cooper reached for his Aunt and she transferred him to Nat’s open arms. “Sometimes the best things happen with no warning.” 

“Like my nephew.” 

She rolled her eyes. “There was plenty of warning, I was just too stubborn to listen.” 

There was a whooshing sound and the thud of a bag hitting the floor. Flour swirled in a cloud around the kids. “Snow!” Lila exclaimed. 

Fitz drew in the powder. “Look at that, art class!” Clint handed his son a pastry brush. He swirled the utensil in the four, making patterns that resembled binary code. 

Laura handed a wad of damp paper towels to Lila. Lately, she liked imitating her family when they did chores. This was a perfect learning opportunity. “When does it snow? Summer or winter?” 

“Winter.” She rubbed the towel in the flour, making a grimy paste. “Like Daddy’s horse.” 

“Yes! You’re such a smart bug.” Laura gave her husband a fist-bump. “Look at us, teaching up a storm.” 

Natasha laughed. “Where’s the recipe?” Cooper chose that moment to sneeze, a disgusting combination of goo and drool coated Nat’s shoulder. 

“No boogers. Yuck.” Lila stuck her tongue out at her younger brother. 

“Um.” Clint’s face flushed. 

“Okay, move aside.” Laura playfully hip-checked her husband. “Let the pro lead this mission.” She deftly arranged ingredients in order of mixing. Skye plugged in the ancient KitchenAid and vocalized when sparks flew from the outlet. 

He popped a few chocolate chunks into his mouth. “Deal.” Clint knelt next to his son, his knees slipping in the flour. “What are you drawing Professor Fitz?” 

Natasha settled at the kitchen table. Cooper smacked the table, babbling happily. “Need any help Laur?” 

“A little music would be nice.” She signed. Skye distributed a variety of cooking utensils to the family. 

Cooper mouthed on a pasta spoon and screeched. Natasha expertly twirled a pair of kid-sized joined chopsticks. A breeze swept through the kitchen, letting the smoke out. Soon there were fresh cookies cooling on the counter. Clint managed a slime experiment on the floor with Lila and Fitz. Jemma spooned a bit into a container for further research. Skye flounced around the space with Bucky on FaceTime, catching him up on the day’s events. 

Laura draped her arms around Natasha’s neck. “It’s only noon.” She grumbled. 

“12:07, to be exact.” Nat caught the time that blinked on the digital display over the oven. 

Laura pouted. “Too early for ice cream?” The morning of meetings had yielded mixed results. Even the color coordinated, immaculately designed schedule couldn’t control every variable. This morning’s impromptu baking had been exactly what the kids needed. Now, for a moment of peace and relative quiet. 

“You get the carton, I’ll get the spoons.” Natasha winked at her friend. Cooper gummed the oversized spoon, perfectly content to stay nestled in his Aunt’s arms. Just another day in the life of the Barton family.

**Author's Note:**

> Lapachka means 'little fish' in Russian. Natasha is learning how to express her love for her found family. 
> 
> Most of the anecdotes in this story come from my own experiences and the experiences of fellow educators. Please be kind as schools re-open this fall, we are people too.


End file.
